Rooms in the TARDIS
by Hinn-Raven
Summary: The TARDIS is much bigger on the inside, yet we only see what happens in the console room. In every room in the TARDIS, there's a story or two to tell. Now complete.
1. Trampoline

**A/N: Hello! This is my first attempt at Doctor Who fanfiction. This will contain all companions of Doctors 9-11 (except for River Song. I have nothing against her, but she hasn't spent enough time in the TARDIS to get an opportunity yet.) Some are longer than others, but that can't be helped. I favor no companion over any other, even though I gave Rose two chapters here (one for each of her Doctors.) It won't always happen, and they also won't always be in chronological (well, episode wise.) order. Enjoy!**

**Oh, and I don't own Doctor Who. Otherwise I'd know who the Silence is, wouldn't I?**

**

* * *

**The Doctor lay flat on his back, underneath the TARDIS consol, sonic screwdriver in his mouth.

"What happened to you?" he muttered, raising the device and putting it on setting 125b. Muttering to himself, the Ninth incarnation of the Doctor set to fixing his wonderful (but slightly malfunctioning) time machine. Rose and himself had just left Cardiff with Charles Dickens, and when they took off for their next adventure, he wanted to be at least somewhat accurate this time. It was good to have a companion again, he thought. Even the TARDIS was feeling happier.

Suddenly, a large, very loud scream filled the TARDIS, echoing down the hallways toward him. He froze. Rose.

He was up in an instant, sonic screwdriver in hand. He dashed down the hall, following the place where her scream had originated. The TARDIS was helping him, shuffling rooms at an amazing rate in order to help him find his friend. Finally, he reached the end of the hallway, and he paused. Instinct from the Time War in his blood, he paused, placed one hand on the door knob, set the sonic on a good setting, and wrenched open the door.

He stopped in his tracks. Rose Tyler was bouncing up and down, _laughing_. She had found the trampoline that he hadn't used in decades, possibly longer. Her hair was flying all over the place, while her jumper lay discarded to one side.

"Rose, what are you _doing_?" he demanded, eyes wide.

"You never told me you had one of these!" was her joyful reply, reaching upwards with her fingers, trying to reach the dome-like net that protected any bouncers from the TARDIS's jerks and jolts.

"Haven't used it in years," he whispered, tracing the scorched edges of the trampoline, which was a reminder of how the last person had tried to blow it up when in a mood.

"How could you not have?" laughed the blond, bouncing again, not as high this time.

"You act as if you've never seen one of these before," said the Doctor, redirecting his attention to the 19 year old human.

"Not in real life!"

"You've never seen-"

"Not much room in our flat," she pointed out.

The Doctor shook his head slowly, and turned around, leaving his Earthly companion to the joys of bouncing on a trampoline.

* * *

"Come on, Rose!" exclaimed the new Doctor, effortlessly bouncing twice as high as her. The room was now brightly lit and all traces of the dust that had covered the room when she first discovered the room deep within the TARDIS had vanished. This Doctor got things done.

"How are you doing that?" Rose demanded, cross. She'd thought she'd been doing so well.

The Doctor just laughed as he soared high above his companion. "You can do better than that, Rose!"

"No I can't!" she protested, thrusting down hard with both of her feet, which failed to bring her up to the height of the Doctor.

"Oh yes?" he asked mischievously, reaching inside his suit pocket and extracting his faithful sonic screwdriver from its depths.

"What's _that_ going to do?" demanded Rose, skeptically.

"This!" he declared, pointing it at the wall. The sound, now second only to the TARDIS in her world now, filled her ears. Music began to blare from a stereo system that Rose had not noticed before, something with a steady beat and an odd voice: she suspected that it was alien, since some of those sounds seemed far beyond even human _technology's_ ability, let alone a human voice, not to mention that that mysterious voice mentioned several obscure places that she had never heard of. But it was catchy, and Rose Tyler found herself found herself picking up on the lyrics quickly, singing along, her voice mixing surprisingly well with the Doctor's.

"How ARE you doing that?" demanded Rose, laughing as the music began to fade, while watching the Doctor soar above her yet again.

"Physics!" he yelled gleefully, placing his Converse-clad feet on the springy black surface of the trampoline.

The next song began, causing Rose's attention to shift to the music.

The two of them spent what must have been hours, singing and bouncing along before the TARDIS gave a sudden jerk, sending them both on their backs. Their heads inches away from Each other, their legs angled away from each other, the two of them lay like that and laughed. And they laughed and laughed and laughed as the TARDIS swirled through the vortex, taking them anywhere, anytime, whenever its occupants decided they wished to go there, and as the minutes ticked down of their precious time together, and as the destruction of the Torchwood Institute and the closing of the Void loomed closer and closer, their laughter rang threw the halls. They were ignorant of what was ahead, and that was as it should be. They did not know what was to come. All that mattered was right then, and then, in that wonderful moment, they were happy.

* * *

Martha looked up at the slightly hyper Time Lord, who was bounding up and down eagerly, looking at her.

"You want me to go up there and bounce with you?" she asked, finding surprise in her voice. It was sort of childish, and it didn't seem like something an all powerful enigma liked the Doctor pretended to be.

"Why not? It's a lot of fun!" he said, grinning that goofy grin at her.

Martha's doctor-in-training part of her was protesting about danger, especially since the machine was _moving_ on the moment. But… it did look like a lot of fun…

Smiling up at the Doctor, she grabbed the offered hand and pulled herself up onto the TARDIS's trampoline.

* * *

"I am _not_, and I repeat,_ not_, going on there," said Donna in her most thoroughly stubborn voice, as she glared at the skinny alien boy who was showing off the trampoline as if it was a grand prize for some ridiculous contest.

"Oh come on, Donna, it's _fun_."

"I will _not_ go on there," she repeated, standing firm, ignoring that the Doctor was giving her the most unimaginably pleading face at her, one that wrenched hearts. But not Donna's. Not about this. There was no way on this world or any other of the numerous that the Doctor had taken her too, and doubtlessly would take her, that she was going to risk her life to go bouncing on a trampoline. Not in this lifetime.

"But-"

"No!" she said firmly.

"Please…"

"No."

"Just once…"

"No way."

"Come on…"

"No…"

"Donna…"

"No!"

"Please…"

"No, no, no, no, no way!"

A few minutes later, they were both on the trampoline, enjoying themselves greatly.

"Told you!" he crowed.

"Watch it, alien boy," was her only reply.

* * *

"Come on, Pond!" said the Eleventh Doctor eagerly, nearly flying.

Amy was laughing eagerly, bouncing nearly as high. Rory watched the two with an amused eye. Both were really children, it seemed a good deal of the time.

He settled down into his chair that he had found, watching them. Amy was really happy here, in the TARDIS. And that made him happy. The raggedy doctor had come back from her, and she was having adventures, like they had always acted out together in her backyard when they were children. Rory would wave imitations of the sonic screwdriver around, and leap out of Amy's storage shed. He'd have fun doing it, too. Although, he knew know that he'd been a very poor imitation of the real thing. Somehow he'd never quite able to capture the essence of the Doctor.

"Come on, Rory! Aren't you coming!" yelled Amy, finally bouncing higher than the Doctor, much to her delight.

Rory paused. "Yeah, I'm coming!"

* * *

**There's the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed reading it! Please review, and all that jazz...**

**Flames will be mocked. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**Hinn-Raven  
**


	2. The Library

**A/N: So here's chapter two! Hope you enjoy it!  
**

**Chapter Two- The Library**

"Martha?" the Doctor called, looking into the library. The vast, wonderful library filled with almost every single novel, magazine, newspaper, collection, biography, novella, or any other possible types of literature that had ever been seen in any civilization ever (Jack had once found a complete version of the Rosetta Stone in the Egyptian section). Whenever he and Martha weren't busy saving planets or galaxies or puppies, she'd taken to spending a lot of time here.

"Yes?" Martha's voice was distant. The library was, after all, the largest area in the TARDIS (with the possible exceptions of the bowling alley, the Zero-Gravity room, the laboratory, and the planetarium). Unlike Rose, who'd preferred to do her reading in the main Reading Room, Martha, who devoured books at an amazing rate, usually stayed in whatever subsection she was in at the time. Just to be sure, he checked the Reading Room, but, sure enough, it was Jones-free.

"Where are you?" he called, sighing. He knew that Martha really needed a rest after the Weeping Angels had sent them back to 1969, but he was _bored_.

"Earth, 21rst century," called his companion.

"Ah," he said, heading towards that room. When he pushed open the door, he found Martha curled up in an armchair with an anniversary edition of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. "Love that book," he commented, closing the door behind him.

"It's great," she said, looking up at the Time Lord with a smile as he sat down in the armchair across from her.

"Great series. Most popular children's books of all time," he said with a smile. "Jo is a wonderful woman too."

"Martha shook her head in mock exasperation. "Have you met _every_ famous author?"

"Almost..." he paused thoughtfully. "I haven't met Agatha Christie. Or Herman Melville. Or..."

"I get the idea," said Martha with a smile. "Did you ever meet Jane Austin?"

"Long time ago," he said with a smile, remembering fondly. "Wonderful woman. Superb even. Once she'd gotten over Ace's outfit anyways."

"Who's Ace?"

"Old friend of mine. Before the Time War. She wasn't exactly dressed for the period..." he trailed off, laughing at the memory.

"Why not?"

"I'd been aiming for 2001," he admitted sheepishly. "She didn't believe me when I told her about the London Eye. You should have seen the looks we got... but when the Cybermen started attacking, Jane forgot about Ace's trousers. She was a good aim with Nitro 9, Jane was.

Martha laughed. "Of course." She tried to think of another famous author. "What about Stephenie Meyer?"

"Who?"

"The _Twilight_ lady?" He looked blank. "Those books with sparkling vegetarian vampires and werewolves?"

"_Those?_" he looked horrified. "I haven't read those for over a century. I've only just managed to be able to read a vampire book without flinching! I couldn't even look Anne Rice in the eye when I met her!"

"My mum loves Anne Rice," said Martha, laughing when the Doctor rubbed his face where her mother had slapped him. "I prefer Buffy though."

"Oh, Buffy's brilliant! I just love that series! It's been ages since I've seen them though."

"We need to do a marathon one of these days," suggested his friend, idly returning her attention to her book.

"Sounds like a good idea."

"So what happened when you met JK Rowling? What aliens invaded?"

"You just assume that I can't go anywhere without aliens invading!" he cried indignantly. He spotted her raised eyebrows. "Okay, so the Sontarans _happened_ to attack that day, but it had nothing to do with me!" an idea struck him. "Do you want to meet her? She'd tell it much better than I can!"

"I'd love to!" Martha said eagerly, marking her place.

"Come along, then Martha Jones. Allons-y!"

* * *

Rose stared at a book. "Doctor?" she called, her voice echoing throughout the library.

"Yes?" the Northern sounding man said, looking up from his perusal of _So Long and Thanks for All the Fish_.

"What's this?" she said, showing him a book that was filled with squiggles. "I thought the TARDIS translated everything!"

"That books from 2009, Rose," he said, as if that explained everything.

"So?"

He looked up at her. "The TARDIS censors all books from your future. Prevents spoilers."

"Oh," said Rose with a sigh, putting it back on the shelf.

"Try this. It's from your past, so it's legible," offered Jack.

Rose took the book he offered, and then glared at him as the 51rst century ex-con artist started reading the book that she couldn't read.

* * *

"What are you reading?" Amy demanded, looking at Rory.

"This book the Doctor lent me about parallel dimensions and the travel between them."

"Seriously?" she demanded. "You've _got_ to be kidding me!"

Rory flushed a little. "What's wrong with that?"

"You are such a nerd!" she laughed. Rory's ears went very red.

"What's so wrong with being a nerd?" asked the Doctor, walking up on the engaged couple.

Amy started laughing.

"Why is she laughing?" the Doctor asked Rory.

"No clue."

"Girls. Even the human ones never make sense," muttered the Time Lord.

"_Even?_ So yours were worse?"

"Oh yes," the Doctor said. "There was this one Time Lady called the Rani..."

"Do _all_ your names start with 'the'?" asked Amy, recovered from her laughing fit.

"No, well," he straightened his bow time. "Just... some of us."

"Do tell," said Rory.

"Well there was the Master, the Rani, the Monk..."

"And the Doctor," Amy said with a grin.

"Yes, well, at least my name makes sense!" said the Doctor, a bit indignant.

Amy and Rory just grinned at him.

* * *

Donna Noble ran her fingers over the spines of the books. "Now where is that book?" she muttered. Gramps had told her about this book of his, and he thought that it might interest her.

_Little Known Saints of the Catholic Church _was the title. Why Gramps had thought that she'd be interested in _that_ book was beyond her, but she might as well check it out.

She found the book, a hug, leather-bound thing. "Page 121," she muttered, turning pages quickly.

_Saint John of Tardes_ read the page. Donna blinked twice. Then she started reading.

_The Saint called St. John of Tardes (alternatively spelled Tardis, Tardez, or Tardees) is a little known man whose story begins in the small village called Clemsworth in 1624. According to local tradition, the man was a peddler, or a wanderer, with many skills in medicine. He arrived at the same time as a horrible disease, referred to by the locals as Peelers Plague (So called because one of the symptoms of this horrid disease included huge amounts of one's skin peeling off). St. John, who was referred to by his grateful patients as 'The Doctor' set about curing the disease. It was in his honour that the famous Saint John's Hospice Centre was founded in 1837 in Clemsworth. _

_Many historians argue the man's existence, mostly because there is no record of any such man, before or after he left Clemsworth. No one has been able to locate a place called Tardes, (or Tardis, or Tardez, or Tardees) which further points towards the man never having existed outside of children's stories. However, to this day, 'The Doctor' as he is often called, remains a popular children's hero, and is often depicted in local art work. Below is one of the earliest known images of St. John. It is unknown what the building behind him is, as no such building has been found in Clemsworth today._

Donna looked down at the picture. A young man, probably in his twenties could be seen, with a wild mop of hair. He grinned cheekily at the artist, and his face sang of mischief. He wore a tweed jacket, and a bow tie was visible as well. In once pocked, almost invisible, Donna spotted a strange metal thing. A sonic screwdriver, perhaps? But it was the eyes that convinced her. Intelligent, eyes, eyes that had seen too much. Eyes far too old for a man that young.

"Oye! Spaceman!" Donna called.

"Yes?" replied the Doctor, looking up from his persuit of _Murder on the Orient Express_.

"What's this?" she demanded, showing him the book. He scanned it quickly, then stopped.

"Haven't done that yet," he said, closing the book. "Not yet, anyway."

"But the drawing... you look _younger_. How does that work?"

"It's very complicated. I'll explain later," said the Doctor, putting the book on the small table next to him. "Now, I found this lovely place called Midnight. There's a waterfall made of sapphires..."

"Can't we just go to a spa?" suggested Donna.

"I can take you anywhere in time and space, any time period of any civilization, and you want to go to a _spa?_" he sounded indignant.

"All this running can't be very good for me," Donna pointed out. "I could use a rest."

"Humans, honestly."

* * *

He slouched down in the chair, head in his hands. The millions upon millions of books that surrounding him was not comforting. There was no escape from the emptiness, that hollow feeling. His mind still hadn't accepted the fact, even if his hearts had. His brain kept calling out for other Time Lords, seeking out their presence, but he only found ringing silence.

He sighed. How ironic it was, that once the Time Lords were gone, he wanted them back. How often, in previous regenerations, would he have loved to be free of their rules and regulations? Free of their meddling in his life, free to _interfere. _

He stared down at the ridiculous outfit of his predecessor, picking at the sleeves. What had he been thinking when he'd chosen this outfit? It no longer even fit him, so why was he still wearing it? He ran his hand over his closely shaved head. Had he regenerated like this, or had he done that to his hair? He couldn't remember.

The Doctor didn't even know how long he'd been dwelling in his TARDIS, moping. A year, a decade, or even a century? He had no idea.

He knew he ought to do something. Now that the Time Lords were gone, he alone could travel through time. He alone could stop the Cybermen, the Sontarans, the Ice Warriors, and the Zygons... all of those creatures. It was his job to stop them.

Because now, no one else could.

* * *

**A/N: I actually really enjoyed writing this. Sorry if you're found of Stephenie Meyer and Twilight, but I seriously doubt that the Doctor is a Twilight fan. **

**Anyways, please review!**

**Hinn-Raven, the not-quite companion of the Doctor**


	3. The Wardrobe

**A/N: Umm... Yeah. Sorry. Here you go?**

**I don't own Doctor Who. I make no money from this. End of Story.**

**

* * *

**"What. Is. _That?_" demanded Martha, staring in horror at the monstrosity before her.

The Doctor looked up from his examination of what appeared to be an Elizabethan gown to see what concerned his friend. He paled as he spotted what she held at arm's length away from herself. It was a horribly familiar hideous patchwork multi-color coat that made his eyes water just looking at it.

"That thing?" he asked, trying to suppress the memories of when he had worn that coat. "Oh, it's just an old coat of mine," he said, hoping she'd drop it.

"You _wore_ this?" demanded Martha, holding out that… _thing_ up to him, as if trying to picture him in it.

"I was _much_ younger," he said, shuddering.

"So… it still fits you then?" she asked, a mischievous gleam in her eyes that he hadn't seen that often.

"I doubt it," he said, silently cursing his previous regeneration.

"Try it on," she suggested, tossing it to him.

"_No_," he said, drawing that word out, shoving it back at him.

"Come on, you wore it before!" she said, giving it back.

"I was having a midlife crisis!" the Doctor yelled desperately, avoiding the coat.

"Just try it on," Martha pleaded.

After a while, the Doctor finally was wearing that coat. "Martha!" he yelled as he saw a cell phone being removed from a pocket. "Martha, don't—"

Then there was a bright flash of light.

* * *

"Hello, Amy? Rory?" asked the Doctor, poking his head around the corner as he heard a noise. His copy of _A Study in Scarlet_ was tucked underneath his arm, a cheerful grin on his face as he glanced around the large, impressive wardrobe. He spotted Amy's short skirt tossed over a rail, as usual. She was probably trying out more outfits and modeling them for Rory, he thought with a slight sigh. Really, it was great having company in the TARDIS again, but honestly, Amy was really preoccupied with this room. She spent a huge amount of time there, he thought as he mounted the stairs.

He froze as he turned the corner. Rory was wearing one of his old suits, his hair had been messed with, and he wore his old trench coat. Amy was kissing him, while, much to the Doctor's horror, wearing what appeared to be Jack's coat and hat. Her bright red hair was nowhere to be seen, since it was tucked up in the hat.

He started to turn away before he noticed where they'd gotten the idea. A picture lay on the floor, one of his and Jack, arms around each other that Martha had taken just after the 'Year That Never Was." That explained a lot…

He made his getaway quickly. He really didn't want to see the rest of this.

* * *

"Is this my police-women outfit?" demanded Amy, shocked. The Doctor looked up from his fez-search, confused.

"Looks like it," he said, grinning agreeably.

"How'd it get in here? I didn't bring it!"

"The wardrobe is a strange thing," said the Doctor as mysteriously as he could.

"Doctor…"

"Amy, you're inside a 1960's police box that's bigger on the inside, which travels through time and space, and you want to know why an old outfit of yours appeared in the wardrobe?"

"Yes."

He sighed and started to explain about neuron scanners and internal data-bases, fabric replication generators, and blueprints, but Amy, frustrated, covered her ears. "Doctor!"

"Well, you wanted to know!" he said, indignant. "And anyway, for your next stop on the honeymoon, I was thinking, how about Christmas Day, on a galaxy class-cruiser. Should be fun."

"Yeah, why not?" asked Amy thoughtfully.

* * *

"Ta-dah!" said Rose, beaming as she stepped out of the changing area of the wardrobe.

Jack leaned back with a grin. "Nice, Rosie. Very nice."

Rose was wearing a slinky green thing that could pass as a dress… sort of. She grinned widely at the Doctor's expression, which was _hilarious._

"Rose, we're going to the Victorian era. You can't just go around dressed like _that_," he said, his accent becoming more pronounced as he spoke.

"Well, knowing _you're_ accuracy, we'll end up at a cocktail party or something," pointed out Rose, crossing her arms.

"But if you're dressed like _that_, they'll arrest you," he said firmly.

"Then you can just 'resonate the concrete,' can't you?" she demanded stubbornly.

"Rose…"

"Fine," she muttered, stalking off.

"Why would she even _think_ that was acceptable?" the Doctor asked Jack, confused.

"We had a small bet on the subject," replied the former Time Agent lightly.

"About what?"

"About whether you would let her wear that."

The Doctor sighed. Those two… they were like children.

* * *

The Doctor looked around, feeling lonely. He looked around the tall, twisting room, hearing nothing but his own breathing as he wandered up the stairs, searching for a new suit. The last one was damaged after his latest adventure. He really needed to find someone. He pushed that thought into the back of his mind. What had happened with Martha and her family had shown him—he shouldn't get involved with people. It only got them hurt. Next time there probably wouldn't be a way to reverse all the deaths and damage that was caused. He shuddered at the images that were imprinted into his mind. Japan burning, New York a crater… it all haunted him. He was so happy that he was able to reverse that.

He spotted something, which made him stop and grin. The "Hall of Fame," as he had once called it. First there was Susan's jacket from the 1960's, then there was Jamie's old kilt, a pair of Jo's platform boots, one of Leela's leather-bikini things, Romana's cape, Adric's badge, Tegan's stewardess outfit, one of Peri's shirts Ace's jacket… and then Rose's Union Jack T-Shirt, Jack's hat, Martha's leather jacket… he wondered what would be the next thing to join them.

Because he knew, deep down. There would be a next. No matter how many times he thought he was dangerous, and should never take another person on a trip, there would always be a next.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please REview!**


	4. The Pool

**A/N: Hello. Yes, it's been awhile. But I've been busy. Very busy. Mainly making my way through Buffy and keeping up with the newest season. But here you go, the latest chapter. I do hope you enjoy.**

**I do not own Doctor Who, that's Steven Moffat. And if I **_**was**_** Steven Moffat, would I need to write fanfiction to tell people my ideas? No I wouldn't. **

* * *

Chapter Four: The Pool

"Come on, Doctor," pleaded Rose, who was treading water in the swimming pool. "The water's not going to bite you."

"I don't swim," said the Northern-sounding man. He was sitting on a pool-chair, reading, completely ignoring the Londoner.

"Why not?" she demanded, swimming towards the edge of the pool that was closest to him.

"Geronimo!" yelled Jack, appearing on the diving board. He jumped into the pool, creating a huge wave that sent Rose underwater.

"Jack!" she protested as she surfaced. "What was that—" she trailed off as she realized what Jack was wearing. Or rather, what he _wasn't_ wearing. "Why aren't you wearing your trunks?" she demanded, turning a bright red. She looked at the ceiling, the Doctor, the diving board, anywhere but Jack, which was hard, as the ex-con man was floating on his back, as if showing off.

"Is something wrong with that, Rose?" asked Jack with a huge grin.

Rose didn't dignify that with an answer; she just turned around and swam away as fast as she could.

"Hey, wait up!" yelled the captain, following her. She swerved to avoid him, and he followed.

"I'm going to have to clean that pool, aren't I?" the Doctor asked the air, flipping a page in his book, studiously ignoring Rose's escape from Captain Jack Harkness.

* * *

"And then Rose said," the Doctor was babbling again. Rose, as usual, thought Martha, feeling bored. Always Rose. He _never_ shut up about her. Rose would eat shrimp by the pool, Rose would read Dickens in the library, Rose would always roll gutters while bowling, Rose would backtalk to a Dalek, and Rose always made him take her shopping… Martha wondered how long she _could_ handle this. She was _this_ close to losing it, and shoving him into the pool.

He defiantly was an alien, she thought. Shouldn't he know, with over 900 years of time travel under his belt that he would be aware that some people weren't interested in listening about his friend for twenty four hours. Sometimes she wondered if he even liked her, or if he just wanted someone who would put up with him talking about Rose for hours on end.

"And then, after that, Queen Victoria _banished _us! Can you believe it? Knighted and banished on the same day! It was brilliant!"

"Good for you, Doctor," she said, sighing. "Now, are we going to swim, or just talk?" Or listen, in her case.

"Then, later on," the Doctor began, clearly winding up for yet _another_ story about how wonderful, amazing, original, unique, and just plain special Rose was.

Martha lost it. She pushed him _hard_. The Time Lord went head over heels into the pool, making an impressive splash as he did so. The image of him, soaking wet, with his hair all floppy, and indignant as he could possibly be made it worth it. Martha hid a giggle.

* * *

"Amy?" the Doctor yelled, pushing open the door to the pool. "Rory?"

He glanced around. The pool, like most of the TARDIS had given itself a makeover after his last regeneration. Now it had a look that was less like a hotel pool and more like a backyard type. The artificial sky claimed it was night, and the Doctor spotted the constellations that would be typical in England. He'd never seen the artificial sky do anything but a sunny day before.

The smooth, grey flagstones surrounded the pool, which was lit on its own. A single, large palm tree stood to one side, surrounded by pool chairs. A discarded beach ball lay to one side of the pool, and the whole atmosphere seemed relaxed.

The Doctor smiled, took a step forward, and felt his foot come down on something damp. The Doctor leaned down to examine it in the light of the pool's eerie glow. It was what looked like the top of a swimsuit. Glancing to his left, he spotted the bottom of one. On one of the pool chairs, was what appeared to be Rory's swimsuit. The Doctor blanched. Very studiously _not_ looking at the pool, he turned and ran away.

* * *

"Donna," said the Doctor, looking at his best friend in a very odd way, "You _do_ know that the sun isn't real?" The artificial sky was showing a beautiful blue sky without a single cloud, with a yellow, Earth-like sun almost half-way up on the sky. Donna was lounging in one of the poolside chairs, sunbathing.

"Yes," Donna replied, looking at him like he was an idiot.

"Well, then, why are you _sunbathing?_" he asked. "There's no reason to! That sun," he pointed up to the bright ball on the ceiling, "Is sending out no ultraviolet light, so there is no chance of getting a tan, or even sunburn from it!"

"So?" asked Donna, continuing to bask in the warmth.

"So… it makes no sense! There is no reason that you need to sunbathe!" the Time Lord was trying to wrap his head around it. Rose had made him take her to places so she could tan, but had never exactly displayed an interest in just sunbathing in an artificial sun.

"It feels nice," said the human, clearly annoyed at the Doctor. "Is that alright, Space Man?"

The Doctor mumbled something about humans, and wandered away, still trying to figure it out.

* * *

"Ah!" yelled the new Doctor as he plummeted down. Door after door burst open as he collided with them, sending him further and further down into the depths of the TARDIS. As he went he spotted the bowling alley, the wardrobe (he really would need to stop in there to find new clothes after this…), the football pitch, the garden, the kitchen, six bathrooms, Martha's old room, the study, the movie theatre, Tegan's old room (so _that's_ where it had gotten to), the Medical Bay, the attic, the Hall of Mirrors, Armour and Trapdoors (why did he even _have_ that room), the Zero room, the cricket pitch, an empty bedroom, and another bathroom.

The new Doctor wasn't sure if he was terrified or enjoying himself. New man and all. But he _was_ surprised at how many rooms he was passing through on his way down. He wondered when he'd stop...

With a huge splash, he landed in the pool. He struggled to the surface and grabbed the ladder, hauling himself up. He blinked. The pool had moved again. Now, instead of an artificial sky and pool chairs, it was surrounded by wooden panelling and books. "When did this happen?" he wondered out loud, looking around for something he could use to get out.

* * *

**A/N: Please review, they are love. Also, my ideas are running out for this fic. I've got one more chapters worth of ideas. Do you think I can end it after the next chapter, or is there a room that you are dying to see the Doctor and his friends in? **

**Until next time, **

**The Not-Very-Timely-But-Fortunately-Still-Not-As-Bad-As-The-Doctor, Hinn-Raven**


	5. The Kitchen

**A/N: Hello, summer! Yes, finals are over, and it's time for me to start updating **_**much**_** more regularly. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all enjoy the latest installment. Thanks to Eleni C for her ideas for this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. If I had, Idris would have remained as a full-time companion. **

* * *

Chapter Five: The Kitchen

The Doctor hummed to himself as he walked around the kitchen, his Converse making soft _thudding_ sounds against the immaculate white tile floor. A small round table surrounded by four chairs was on one side of the room, set for two. On the other side was a chromatic stove, a large refrigerator that only ever seemed to run out of milk, but nothing else, a granite counter top, and a bunch of white painted cupboards, which contrasted starkly with the light green walls. Martha had picked the latest setting out, noticing that the old setting reminded him to much of Rose.

He cracked the eggs open into the frying pan. There was nothing quite like scrambled eggs in the morning. Scrambled eggs, he thought, adding milk, were among the greatest inventions that humans had come up with. He grabbed the whisk and began to beat them rapidly.

He might not be as handy in the kitchen as his predecessor had been, but he still was pretty good. _Much _better than he'd been back in the days when he carried around that confounded umbrella, anyway. But that wasn't saying much.

He heard a noise behind him. "Good morning, Donna!" he sang, turning around. Donna glared at him. She looked exhausted. He frowned. She must not have slept well again.

"You okay?" he asked, scooping her portion of the eggs onto a plate and offering it to her.

Donna didn't respond. She just walked up to the coffee machine and poured herself a cup.

"Ah. Right. Coffee." He never understood humans and their addiction to that stuff. Martha had loved to drink _huge_ amounts of the stuff, bitter and black. Rose had preferred tea, but she loved a good cappuccino on rainy days or right after they saved the world. But Donna was impossible to talk to before she had her morning cup. One would _think_ he'd be used to it by now.

* * *

"And then, next thing I knew, Beatrice and I were wearing only a feather boa and a pair of Wellingtons each, standing in front of the Parliament of Janx! And then, of course, Beatrice tries to blame it all on me, which is utterly confusing, since I had _no_ clue how I got there. It probably had something to do with the fact that Ford spiked my drink the night before, but it would be nice to know what I was being blamed _for_," Jack said, pouring the clear coloured liquid into the blender.

Rose was giggling. "What did she do then?"

"Who?" said Jack, tossing three bright blue tablets into the mix.

"Beatrice."

"Beatrice was a he."

Rose blinked twice. "A he," she repeated, watching as Jack turned the blender on.

"Yep," Jack started searching the cupboards. "Where does the Doc hide the glasses?" Rose pointed to one of the top sets. "Thanks," the former Time Agents got out two glasses.

"So, what exactly are you making?"

"A wonder of the 34th Century, Hyper Vodkas!" he said with a grin, turning off the blender.

"And you make it using Vodka, blue things, and a blender?" Rose asked in disbelief.

"You better believe it!" he poured generous amounts into both glasses. "You know, last time I was sentenced to death, I ordered four of these things. Woke up in bed with both of my executioners," he added, taking a large swig of his drink.

"You've _got_ to be making that up," said Rose, tentatively sipping her own drink.

"I'm not," said the Captain with a grin, draining his glass and pouring himself another. "How many of these do you think it will take for me to wake up in bed with the Doc?"

Rose burst out in laughter. She took a larger sip of the Hyper Vodka to steady herself. "About a dozen," she informed him.

"You think?" he sighed, stirring his drink with a straw. "That's just short of lethal."

"What, these things can kill you?" she said, nearly choking on hers.

"Only if you drink a ton of them," he assured her. "It takes about four to get well and truly drunk."

Rose giggled hysterically at that, and kept drinking. Jack blinked as the 21st Century girl started chatting very rapidly and giggling at the smallest of things.

"Rose? Jack?" said the Doctor, poking his head in the kitchen. He started at the sight. Rose was singing what sounded like something from _Oliver_, interrupting herself every now and then with loud giggles, while the Captain just stared.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

"Nothing! I just fixed us up Hyper Vodkas, and she had one!" the ex-con man said, defensive.

"Hyper Vodkas?" the Doctor repeated.

"Yes."

He sighed. "Jack, people in the 21st Century don't have the same level of alcohol tolerance as people from your time do. Even just one of these is more alcohol than it takes for the average person to get intoxicated."

"Oh." The Captain turned to look at Rose, who was currently glaring at the pair of them. The effect was ruined by her giggles at regular intervals.

"I am _not_ drunk," she informed them in her loftiest voice, taking a step forward, running into the chair as she did so. "Who put _that _there? Doctor?"

"Oh dear," the Time Lord cradled his head in his hands.

"If she's not used to that much alcohol, she's going to have one hell of a hangover," noted Jack, "D'you have any remedy, Doc?"

"No," he said with a sigh. "Most of the people who I've travelled with don't drink much."

"I am _not_ drunk!" Rose protested loudly, walking towards them. She tripped over the flat surface. "Ouch!"

"Better get her to bed," sighed the Doctor, helping Rose up.

"Maybe we should go find her some Hangover Remedy?" suggest Jack, moving forward to help.

"Where can we find some?"

"Try Sirius 3," suggested Jack, "They _invented_ Hyper Vodkas. They'll have some."

"Good point."

* * *

Amy watched as her husband carefully chopped vegetables. The large frying pan, (wok, he'd insisted on calling it) already contained chopped onions and celery. A bowl of beef stood to one side, already chopped, ready to go.

Rory finished chopping the peppers and carrots and put them in the wok, grabbing a spatula and stirring quickly.

"Where do you think the Doctor is?" she asked, turning the page in her book.

"Probably recovering," said Rory. "That explosion at the Casino wasn't exactly easy on him."

"Did you see his expression?" said Amy, grinning wickedly. "That was hilarious."

"It might take him a while to recover from that. He seemed pretty cross at River."

"He'll get over it," Amy smirked.

Rory shrugged.

"Rory?"

"Yeah Amy?"

"The rice cooker is overflowing."

Rory sighed and went to fix that situation.

"What are you making?" Amy eyed her husband warily, recalling childhood memories with Rory's attempts at making tea.

"Beef and Broccoli Stir-Fry, Amy," he responded.

"When, exactly, did you learn to cook?" she said, eyes narrowed.

"The Doctor taught me," he responded, adding pepper to his huge pan—wok, Amy reminded herself—of vegetables and meat.

"What, _he_ can cook?"

"Well, he's lived for nine hundred years, you'd think he'd pick that ability up somewhere along the line," Rory reminded her.

Amy shrugged. "When's it going to be ready?"

"Not too long," he said. "Can you go get the bowls? They're right beside the rice cooker."

Amy got up and grabbed the blue porcelain bowls.

"Now, can you put rice in them?" Rory was still stirring.

Amy grabbed a spatula and started divvying the rice into the two bowls. She then grabbed them and walked up to Rory.

Rory scooped mounds of the brownish-orangish-greenish stuff into the bowls.

"No, no, no, no, _no!_" the Doctor was yelling at River. "No, that's _not_ how you fly the TARDIS!"

"Trust me, Sweetie, I know how to do this," River was reassuring him. "Why don't you go find Amy and Rory?"

"They're in the kitchen," the Doctor replied. "And I don't think Amy will be very happy if I interrupt their romantic dinner thing again."

Amy could just picture how River was rolling her eyes. "Fine, Sweetie." Her voice grew louder. "Amy?"

"Yes?" Amy called out in response, setting the bowls on the table.

"We're going to be a bit bumpy for the next few seconds. Hold on tight!"

"How can you _predict_—" the Doctor started before the ship started pitching around, sending Rory to the floor, dropping his wok onto the ground, insuring that Amy didn't hear River's response.

"She is _so_ his wife," Amy whispered to Rory.

* * *

The new Doctor examined his new trench coat with a grin. It was being _marvellous_. Much more so than that ridiculous leather thing that his predecessor was so fond of wearing. Only one trip so far, and already he was enjoying this incarnation.

"Rose?" he asked eagerly, bouncing along the hallway cheerfully. He heard a commotion coming from his kitchen. He pushed open the battered wooden door, painted red with peeling paint and discovered what was basically the Tyler's own kitchen, only more spread out. Or at least, that's what it _would_ look like, if it weren't for the spaghetti sauce that had been splattered all over the place.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. The scene in front of him didn't change. Rose was standing in front of the stove, desperately stirring a tall pot, presumably filled with pasta. A saucepan, overflowing with red sauce sat across the stove on a different burner. The smell of scorched sauce filled his nose, and he studiously _avoided_ looking in the pot which Rose was trying to save.

"What did you _do_?" he asked, discarding his precious coat outside, not wishing to risk it getting coated in the strangely sticky stuff that Rose had managed to create. It had somehow travelled all over the room, sticking to the ceiling, to Rose, to the table, and _especially_ to the floor. The area around Rose's feet appeared to be submerged in an inch of the red sauce.

Cautiously, the recently regenerated Time Lord dipped his finger into some of the stuff in the pot and placed it in his mouth to taste it. He spat it out. It appeared that Rose's preparation of chips—lots of vinegar and a healthy coating of salt—carried over to her cooking. It was horrid.

"Hey!" Rose had seen him spit it out. "I worked hard on that!"

"More like you worked hard on spreading it as far as you could," he laughed. "What did you do?"

"I don't know, it just decided to explode!" Rose said, pouring the hot water out of the pot into the sink, revealing a bunch of mushy pasta. The Doctor leaned over and turned off the burners for both the pasta and the sauce as subtly as he could.

"Sauce doesn't just spontaneously decide to see how sticky it can make my kitchen, Rose," he informed her.

"Well, it does for me," she said, glaring at him. The effect was slightly ruined by the pasta that had gotten in her hair and the sauce on her cheek and nose. He burst out laughing.

* * *

The Doctor was very nervous. He didn't know much about his new companion, but he had an inkling of suspicion that she wouldn't be a very good cook.

Martha carefully poured the milk into the mixture. He couldn't remember, but he was pretty certain that pancakes did not require milk. But then, it had been a while. But it made him nervous. It had taken him ages to recover from Rose's Exploding Sauce. He was fairly certain that a similar disaster was on its way, courtesy of Martha Jones.

Martha turned around to grin at him. "Is something wrong, Doctor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope, not a thing," he said. One thing he remembered from Rose was that if you even hinted that a girl was incapable of cooking, it meant a lot of nagging. He'd done it to Jackie once too, which had just cemented his belief.

Martha picked up the bowl and a ladle and started moving towards the stove. The Doctor tried to take it from her, fearful of what would happen is the medical student placed the batter on the griddle.

"Hey!" Martha protested, as he pulled it away from her, letting go quickly. Which meant, of course, that the bowl was pitched upwards, depositing the majority of its contents all over the Time Lord.

The Doctor was completely coated in the batter, the majority of it residing in his hair. Martha laughed as she grabbed a washcloth and helped him wipe off his suit. "What was_ that_ for?"

The Doctor muttered a pathetic excuse, and tried to save his tie. "Tell you what," he said, feeling rather pink. "Why don't you make another batch of these, and I'll go get this stuff out of my hair."

"No problem," Martha said, still laughing. She grabbed the bowl from where it had landed on the floor and took it to the sink.

The Doctor left the room, feeling very self conscious, coated in batter as he was.

When he returned with damp hair and a fresh suit, he discovered a large plate piled high with pancakes sitting on the table. Maple syrup, jam and butter sat in between the two plates. And the pancakes actually smelled good, which was honestly surprising to him.

"Help yourself," called Martha, who was pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

He speared a single pancake and brought it to his plate. He smeared it in maple syrup, and cut himself a piece. It actually tasted good.

"It's good," he couldn't help but say.

Martha rolled her eyes and sat across from him. "I live on my own," she reminded him. "And I can't afford take-out every day."

Sadly, that made sense to the Doctor. He shrugged and helped himself to more pancakes.

"By the way," Martha said, piling strawberry jam on top of her own pancakes, "We're out of milk."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Of course."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, River has finally made an appearance. I do hope you enjoyed it, and I wish everyone in the UK (and Canada, I think) a wonderful viewing of **_**The Almost People**_**, and I wish the people in the US an enjoyable Memorial Day! *sigh* Not really a fair trade off, is it? Oh well.**

**Please spend a tiny extra bit of time to just tell me what you think! Even if it's jus to tell me that you like this story, they mean a whole lot to me!**

**The Very Unique,**

**Hinn-Raven**


	6. The Consol Room

**A/N: Okay, really sorry it's been so long. I thought that I might be able to write another chapter, so I kept this off in hope that my writer's block would clear up. Over two months later, however… I've kind of given up on it. So here's the end. Thanks for sticking with me so long and for making this an enjoyable experience for me (and hopefully for you.) This chapter takes place sometime after **_**A Good Man Goes to War.**_** Spoilers may appear. **

**Disclaimer: If Doctor Who is mine (which it isn't), then **_**why**_** am I still waiting for **_**Let's Kill Hitler**_**? **

* * *

Epilogue: Consol Room

Amy and Rory walked into the Consol, hand and hand. The Doctor was nowhere to be seen.

"Doctor!" Amy shouted. She and Rory had just finished sleeping off the previous adventure, and now she was eager for the next location—the Doctor had said something about going to Arcadia for fireworks.

"Yes?" his voice was faint and distant.

"Where are you?" Amy called, heading down the stairs, thinking that maybe he was below the glass floor, fixing up the TARDIS again.

She didn't hear his response. As she looked around the engine, something black and square caught her eye.

"Rory, do you know what this is?" Amy asked, walking toward it. It was attached to the ceiling, well concealed by the engine.

"That?" Rory said, following her gaze. "No, I've never seen it before."

"Huh," Amy said, reaching up. "I wonder what it is then?" Her hand traced the perfectly smooth black material.

Rory followed her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. "It has a keyhole," he said. "Maybe your TARDIS key fits?"

Amy reached into her pocket and located said key, put it in the hole, and turned. The lid fell down, revealing a neat little shelf with a book nestled into it, as if they had been made for each other. Knowing the TARDIS, Amy mused as she wiggled it out, maybe they had.

The book was _old_. Like the TARDIS and the Doctor's fashion sense old. It was bound in blue leather, the exact same color as the TARDIS, and there was a small plastic square on the front where one would put a picture. There, on the picture there, was the TARDIS herself, in black and white, with a girl who looked in her early to mid teens and an old man standing in front of the TARDIS.

"Who's that?" Rory asked, looking at it.

"I don't know." She peered carefully at the picture. "Is it just me, or does the TARDIS look… off?"

Rory tilted his head and looked closely. "I think you're right… Maybe the inside explains it."

Amy nodded, and opened the cover. On the inside page, in neat handwriting, it read, _My Adventures through Time and Space. _

Amy and Rory sat down together, and turned the next page.

There were photos there. Some in black and white, like the one on the cover, others clearly had been taken with modern—if not future—cameras. One was of the old man, wearing a neat suit and carrying a cane, staring right at the camera, with what appeared to be a jungle in the background. Beneath it, in the same neat, careful handwriting, it read, _Grandfather and my journey to the planet Ketrequen, in the period of the Third Bountiful Human Empire. _

"Grandfather?" Amy exclaimed. She and Rory shared a glance. "Do you think…?"

Rory shrugged, and returned his attention to the page. The next one was of the girl and her grandfather standing in front of what Rory could easily identify as the Coliseum, in the year, (according to the writing) 65 AD.

The pictures continued in this streak for pages, showing the duo in planets and times. After a while though, another two people showed up. The neat labeling identified them as Ian and Barbara.

Eventually, Susan seemed to disappear from the writing, replaced by Barbara. _Susan left to get married,_ the explanation read_, she asked me to continue this. Said it'd be such a shame to put it to waste._

Barbara and Ian were replaced by someone called Vicki and Steven, and they slowly became another duo called Ben and Polly. Explanations were written that Amy no longer bothered to read, as she was too busy focusing on the fact last picture on the page, which showed a new man, a short one with dark hair. _Apparently this is the Doctor_, read Polly's messy handwriting. _We didn't believe it at first, but I guess it really is him. This is odd…_

The photos stopped there for a page, instead, there was a written explanation in loopy, Victorian era handwriting. _Hello. Sorry. I thought I might as well take over, since Jamie found this. But he can't write, you see, so he asked me to do the writing. I don't know how long this has just been lying around in the TARDIS, but I do hope that you will enjoy it. -Victoria_

"Jamie" as it turns out, was a good-looking man in a kilt (Amy approved), Victoria was a young, pretty girl, and the Doctor seemed to really enjoy taking them places in Earth's history. Under a few of the photos, in clumsy handwriting and bad spelling, was what was apparently Jamie's attempt to explain the photo.

A girl named Jo Grant took over next. Her Doctor was tall, with poofy white hair and ruffled shirts. Jo was tiny, with a fondness for short skirts and platform boots. People called Sergeant Benton, Michael Yates, and a Brigadier made appearances as well. "I know them," Rory said, shocked.

"You do?" Amy said, looking at her husband, confused.

"I met them as the Centurion. They worked for UNIT. Only, UNIT was a bit different back then. Mostly homeland security instead of extraterrestrial threats."

"What, in the seventies?" Amy asked, poking at Jo's hairstyle.

"I think so… but it might have been the eighties. I really didn't pay much attention to time."

"Did you know the Jo Grant girl too?" Amy asked, looking up.

"Not from then, but she shares the same name as that famous protester."

Amy thought. "That one that has about a gazillion kids and grandkids and they all tied themselves to trees to save the rainforest in Peru?"

"Yeah."

"Of course the Doctor knows her."

"You sound surprised."

"I really shouldn't be by now."

Someone called Sarah Jane Smith (who Rory said had written some intriguing articles about stars when he'd been guarding the Pandorica) appeared next. At some point along the line, which Sarah Jane didn't bother to explain, poofy haired ruffled shirt Doctor became big coat, curly hair, and oh-my-god-why-is-that-scarf-that-long Doctor. Someone named Harry also made the occasional note under the photos. Dinosaurs and Pyramids and Cybermen all appeared, mostly from a distance. Daleks were mentioned too, although, as Sarah Jane herself pointed out, it would most likely be suicide to try taking a picture of a Dalek.

Sarah Jane became some lady named Tegan, and the Doctor had, according to Tegan, fell off the top of the Pharos dish and regenerated into a young, blond man who wore a cricket outfit and a stick of celery on his lapel. "Why, exactly, was he climbing a satellite dish in the first place? And _why_ is he wearing celery?" Amy wanted to know.

"I don't think we want to know." Rory replied sensibly.

Tegan was apparently a pretty Australian (judging from her slang) girl with 80s hair wearing a stewardess outfit, and also with her in the TARDIS were someone called Nyssa (an alien apparently) and a boy in a multi-colored outfit called Adric, who disappeared. Nyssa finally wrote that he had died saving the Earth from Cybermen. There were several tear-marks on that page.

Tegan, apparently left the TARDIS at one point or another, leaving Nyssa in charge of the book. But Nyssa herself left, and Tegan, oddly enough, came back, no longer wearing her purple outfit and joined by a good-looking guy in a suit called Turlough.

There was a bit of a gap then. _Hi! I'm Mel! I just found this thing hidden in the floor of the TARDIS. The Doctor said his granddaughter hid her there ages ago. I don't have a camera though… maybe I'll get around to getting one soon. But I do have this…_

The picture had been taken in a photo-booth. A girl, (Mel apparently) and someone in a hideously blinding coat that Amy vaguely remembered seeing around in the wardrobe somewhere, that Mel insisted was the Doctor, were clearly goofing around. _He doesn't know I still have this. He told me to get rid of it. _Mel admitted.

But apparently Mel never got around to getting that camera, as the next person to appear was a girl called Ace. Her Doctor was a short little thing with a vest covered in question marks and an umbrella that also looked like a question mark. Ace constantly referred to him as "The Professor," and seemed to enjoy explosions, judging from her comments under the photos of several explosions that she had either caused or narrowly escaped from.

After Ace, there was a gap. And then, in neat handwriting. _Hello. This is Rose. I think the Time War happened after Ace. In case you don't know, (which I doubt, because he doesn't look like he's going to get over it anytime soon) he had to destroy his own people in an attempt to end the Daleks and stop the Time War. He's the last of his kind now. I've seen two Doctors so far, but luckily I've still got all of the pictures._

The first picture was of the bottle-blond Rose and shaved head and leather jacket Doctor standing in front of a platform that showed a bunch of stars and planets in the distance. _End of the planet Earth. My first trip on the TARDIS_. Rose's handwriting read.

A man named Jack appeared at one point, (stunningly handsome, and with a killer smile as Amy pointed out. She noticed that Rory seemed a bit fidgety once that photo showed up. She'd have to ask him later.) Some of the photos of the three of them even appeared to take place in that consol-place where the TARDIS had sent them when she was human. A man named Mickey (apparently Rose's boyfriend) appeared for a photo or two, and then disappeared again, just in time for the Doctor to change again. Tall, handsome, wild hair, a suit and a trench coat, Amy approved.

Jackie, Rose's mum, started appearing more regularly, as did Mickey, while Jack had disappeared. Sarah Jane Smith appeared, along with K-9, and apparently it was she who had told Rose about the books hiding place within the TARDIS. Mickey had decided to travel with them, according to Rose's remarks, and now he too was showing up in amazing places with Rose and the Doctor. However, he disappeared after only a page (Rose said he opted to stay in a parallel world to fight off the Cybermen after his dimensional counterpart died.) And, was it just Amy, or did Rose seem not upset at all by that?

The last photo of Rose appeared to be one of her and the Doctor in a park somewhere, having a laugh. _This is the last photo the Doctor had of Rose, _an entirely new set of handwriting wrote_, so I thought I should put this in. She's stuck in that parallel world now, and she can't come back. And now he won't shut up about her. I found this in the library, with this photo beside it. She was going to put it in, I guess. I'm Martha, by the way. Martha Jones. I guess I'll be continuing the tradition of this album. _

Martha's photos were clear, precise, and careful, as were her notes. From her comments about the Doctor, Amy gathered she fancied him. She snorted at the thought… and then remembered kissing the Doctor the night before her wedding. She turned the page quickly, noticing an article clipping about Harold Saxon winning the election, with _Harold Saxon is the Master. Who knew?_ Written underneath it, and a familiar photo of the Doctor embracing the man she now knew was Jack. _Taken right before Jack returned to Torchwood after the Year That Never Was, _read the caption underneath it. _Ask the Doctor if you need to know._

Donna, a large, red haired woman with an amazing attitude took over next, making wonderful comments underneath her pictures. She had an amusing habit of referring to the Doctor as "Spaceman" and apparently knew Martha judging from some comments she made. The photos ended rather abruptly.

Amy turned to Rory. "Go get the camera. We are _so_ putting our photos in here."

"Wait _the_ camera, or—"

"No! The red one!" Amy exclaimed, looking at Rory, shocked.

"Just checking!" Rory replied, turning red as he dashed away.

Amy looked back at the picture of the skinny Doctor and Donna in an embrace. She wondered why Donna had left. They'd clearly adored each other, in a platonic, you're my best friend in the entire universe kind of way.

Amy picked up the album and headed to the library, where she knew there was a place that they could print out their pictures.

The married couple had a great time pasting in their photos and scrawling comments in the margins (Amy made several digs at the Doctor's fashion sense) and deciding whether or not to include one of the Doctor after he'd been covered in Slitheen slime.

Amy closed the book. "And now all we need to do is go find the Doctor and ask him about Donna."

"Do you think he'd want to tell us?" Rory asked. "It might be a bit of a sensitive issue…"

"We're asking him," Amy said flatly, grabbing her husband's hand and dragging him out of the library.

Typically, about ten minutes later, the Doctor wandered into the library in search of the Ponds. His eye went immediately to the familiar photo album on the table.

"Finally let them find it, did you old girl?" he asked, smiling as he looked at it. "I wondered when you'd get around to it."

He opened the book and smiled at the familiar faces of Susan and his cranky old first incarnation. Looking around, making sure that Amy and Rory weren't anywhere near, he sent a silent request for the TARDIS to make him hard to find for a little while, and settled down for a trip on memory lane.

* * *

**A/N: …. We're done! I hope you've enjoyed everything! Every single one of you has made it an wonderful first foray into the Doctor Who fandom, and your encouragement has helped me a lot. ****Wow... this feels so weird being done with this.** Keep watching the Doctor Who section. My next story for Doctor Who, Invasion of the Makreen, will be up in October at the latest. 

**Thank you to—**

**hungryharry, Terra Young, tirocno, spartathreehundred, iliveinatardis, Ace of Gallifrey, werebunny131, Prone To Obsession, Eleni C, yotsuya21, Romanadora Boleyn, A-Light-Sleeper, and last but not least brodie-wan!**

**For the very last time on this story, **

**Hinn-Raven, doing her typical sign-off thingy that I suspect must be getting annoying by now.**


End file.
